Wisdom of the Jedi
I haven’t written in a while. I know, I know. Boo-hoo, cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it, blah blah blah.
I hate that I’ve taken so much time away from this, but there were other things to focus my attention on. Plus, I adore my sleep. I do not adore waking up with bear breathe and out-of-this-world bed head. I tend to imagine myself falling asleep the way a model does, cute and all put together, every beauty product well at work on this body. The image remains in the morning, and the instant I look in the mirror, its shattered. Tiny broken pieces everywhere. Watch where you step! (And this is every single day of my life!)
That sounded very melodramatic, didn’t it?
Doesn’t matter, really. There isn’t a single person I’m waking up every day to try to impress. Except maybe myself. The most important person to impress, after all. I’m taking to heart the #1 lesson of Jedi dedication: There is no chaos, there is harmony.
What does this 3rd line of the Jedi Code mean? Personally, it means to stop warring with myself, to stop warring with others. I need to be at peace with myself before I can have true harmony in the world. One major part of my life where there was massive conflict? Looking for my soul mate (or at least a boyfriend for the time being.) After one too many heart breaks and painful metaphorical knife stabbings to the gut, I’m finally yelling it high and mighty:
“No matter how cute and sexy a guy is, there’s always some woman somewhere who is sick of him.”
Carol Henry, a romance writer, probably hasn’t met Ryan Gosling. How could anyone ever get sick of that lovely hunk of man?
Not to be entirely tossed out. My eyes are still peeled for that lucky son-of-a-gun who one day I will call mine, and come home to every single night. Until that day, I live my romances through movies and fiction, the stories that keep our hearts full and wishful. I’ll hold on to the romance I know is waiting out there, but until then, my energy and efforts are going to be put towards making me a happy individual, and to helping others.
So, to quell the romantic beatings of my heart, I want to share the best heart-melting moments of my second all-time favorite romance tale of all: The Notebook.
– “What happens if a car comes?” “We die.”
– “You’re a terrible singer…But I like this song.”
– “She is out foolin’ around. I didn’t spend seventeen years of my life raising a daughter and giving her EVERYTHING , so she could throw it away on a summer romance.”
– “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”
– “You look different, too. In a good way.”
– “You wrote me?” “Yes! It wasn’t over. It still isn’t over.”
– “You got my letters. Finally. What are you going to do, Al?”
– “It’s about security. He’s got a lot of money!”
– “They fell in love, didn’t they?” “Yes, they did.”
Seriously. What’s not to love about that entire story? Not a damn thing. Every time I watch it, I pray to the higher powers watching over this earth, and over me, that I will be blessed with a romance as passionate as Allie and Noah’s. Love isn’t worth having if it isn’t a passionate affair with one another. All my fave love stories have it: Titanic, The Notebook, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars.
The dream I had last night doesn’t help matters any, either.
The thought is simple, really. Why do certain people in one’s life have to be such major pains in my ass? This turns into the second part of a long equation. Part 2: Why can’t anyone accept the blame that is their own? Why must we pass it on to others, and all the while, make them feel awful and terrible 5x more than they already need to?
An impressive question to ask this bright and beautiful first day of December, but something that kept me awake a portion of the night. I don’t remember the last night I actually slept like a little itty-bitty baby. There are too many thoughts swirling around this skull of mine! Real-world problems, personal issues, creative road bumps, family concerns, all of that and more. There is never a moment of silence with this brain of mine.
Sounds so easy, right? “Quiet your mind and listen.” Except its much harder than that. Meditation, zoning out, letting a higher spirit talk to you. It all sounds so simple…but have you actually tried it?
This might explain why I’ve been having such wacky dreams as of late. I’m serious! Just last night? Let me tell you all about it:
“Once again, I find myself in the White House (Am I on a powerful struggle as of late? Why else would I keep placing myself in such a significant place of residence?) except this time, my hair is slicked back in a sleek ponytail, carrying a briefcase, and holding a pack of Bubble-Yum Gum in my hand. The floors are made of hardwood and went I’m sliding around on them with bare feet, and I don’t think my toenails are painted any particular color. Nude, maybe. (Who walks around the White House in bare feet and no nail polish? Yikes.)
Next thing you know, a child or two bursts through the door behind me, and I’m telling at them to slow down or no dessert for dinner (Yet, I don’t believe I am their mother…Glorified babysitter? I really don’t know.) My cell phone rings, and I’m being alerted my presence is needed in the conference room. Immediately. With the gum still clutched in my hand, I turn around and sprint down the hallway (I’m not talking a fast-paced walk…I’m full-out sprinting, yelling at people to get the f*ck out of my way or I’ll personally have them killed.)
I get to the conference room and a large group has gathered. No one has a pleasant look on their face. Very stern, very strict. (Whatever the heck is going on, it’s not good.) Next thing, someone has brought up a PowerPoint (does the White House actually use PowerPoint in their highly top-secret meetings?) and there’s a giant picture of a meteor on it. A larger than the state of Texas meteor is headed towards the United States, and supposedly I’m the one holding the solution to this giant crisis. (Sounds a lot like Armageddon, I know, but I have not watched that movie in months…so where this is coming from is beyond me!)
Someone from the front of the room near the projector screen calls out my name, and asks me to present. I push my way through the crowd, land my briefcase on the table, open and pull out three different Barbie Dolls. No one acts like this is strange, or widely inappropriate given the graveness of the situation.(They are Nurse Barbie, Holiday Barbie, and Rock Star Barbie, in case you were wondering.) I set them on the table, and proceed to reenact my solution using the Barbie dolls. What I said or what my plan was, I couldn’t tell you. (I think I was distracted by the fact I was demonstrating a solution to this world ending problem using Barbie dolls. Wouldn’t you be?!)
I finish my presentation, and my phone rings. I answer it, throwing up a ‘Hold On a Minute’ finger to the speaker who called on me in the first place, and I’m off sprinting again. My mission this time? To pick up four different kinds of pizzas for a birthday party happening on the other side of the White House. I packed up my Barbie’s, and ran out the door. I’m still barefoot, by the way.”
Pretty strange, right? I’m going to have fun deciphering this one later. I wonder what Holiday Barbie means to Freud.
“I have terrible short-term memory loss, which I like to think of as presidential eligibility.”
Paula Poundstone, the comedy circuit staple, has a point here. If I keep having dreams located in the White House, I’ll be just as qualified to run this country as George W. Bush. (Come on, think about it…Was he really qualified to be Commander-in-Chief? I think not.)
It’s the start to the weekend. Be safe out there!
I have felt like death for the past 12 hours, and it’s not because I’ve been drinking.
Well, I was drinking, but not to the point where I am throwing my guts up in the morning. My female body as turned against me as it is that special time of the month. I HATE this time of the month. Plus I’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for almost 36 hours, and my feet are starting to hate me as much as my lower abdomen is. I haven’t been able to bring myself into the bathroom quite yet, either, so my mouth is tasting rather funky still.
The joys of beings an awesome lady!(Are you grossed out yet?)
Yesterday I had brunch with a group of ladies I used to work with and it was a melancholy reason why we were getting together to share memories and have a few laughs. One of our past coworkers, someone who was my direct manager, is dying. Breast cancer decided to take it toll on her, and there was a brief amount of time where we thought it had all been beat. We weren’t so lucky. It’s now spread into her brain and spine, and doctors are giving her from a few weeks to a few months to live. Chills still wrack my body thinking about this sudden mark of death. Less than three months ago, she was walking around our office, a big smile on her face, saying ‘Aloha’ to everyone while bringing us a granola parfait because she knew how many of us are awful at eating a good breakfast in the morning.
Why her? Why someone like her? It’s a question we’ll never have an answer to, and it makes me incredibly sad knowing I’ll open my email one morning, and there will be the final email telling us all the bad news. I’m not looking forward to that moment.
You don’t realize how much someone as affected your life until they are gone. Such a sad reality of life, but so so true. She’s taught me a lot over the years, and she’s seen me grow from an awkward Academy freshman to s confident, ready – to -take-on -the – world super senior. There’s another teacher about life i will greatly miss, and his name is Mr. Feeny.
“I’m not a witch.”
Christine O’ Donnell, a Tea Party politician, speaks the words many woman must feel like proclaiming when they are being attacked for expressing beliefs that make sense to dozens of other people. I’m sure Feeny himself had this thought run through his head a million and a half times as student complain and hate his guts.
There are a handful of lessons Mr. Feeny has taught us throughout the years, and I’m sure my supervisor only capitalized off of them the longer I worked with her. I’m sure you’ve all had a mentor, or more than one, at some point in your life, and they’ll touch on a variety of things that will stay with you long after you and they part ways.
Here is what I have learned from several greats in my short lifetime — and I’m sure there are plenty more to come.
1.) What a true hero is: “But, to me, a real hero is someone who does the right thing when the right things isn’t the easy thing to do.”
2.) Take risks: “Sometimes a sure thing is not the best thing.”
3.) Be yourself: “If you let people’s perception of you dictate your behavior, you will never grow as a person.”
4.) Don’t worry about what other people think: “Unfortunately, we live in a society where they tell us we have to look a certain way, so we’re all under pressure to live up to unrealistic expectations.”
5.) Life is crazy: “We live in a random and chaotic universe.”
6.) Technology should benefit you, not distract you: “Gutenberg’s generation thirsted for a new book every six months! Your generation gets a new web page every six seconds. And how do you use this technology? To try and beat King Koopa, and rescue the princess. Shame on you. You deserve what you get.”
7.) Family can be anyone: “You don’t have to be blood to be family.”
8.) All about love: “There is no greater aspiration than to have love in our live.”
9.) What friendship is: “Friendship, for example, is a real gift. It’s given with no expectations and no gratitude is needed, not between real friends.”
10.) You can change the world: “See, it’s not enough to leave school and just desire to succeed in this cold, cruel world. Because then you’ve simply become a part of it. You must also have the desire to change it. And to change it, you’ll need your fine mind, and his good heart.”
11.) That the things you hate the most might just be the things that mean the most: “Sometimes the things we complain about most are things you care about most. Unfortunately, we don’t always know that until it’s too late.”
12.) Do good: “Believe in yourselves, dream, try. Do good.”
My prayers and thoughts are with my supervisor more and more each day, and I send out a wash of prayers to those who have suffered or who are suffering through this same fate. To put it bluntly, it sucks and it’s not going to be better for some time.
May the Force be with us all.
I’ve gotten a little behind with everything. Guess that’s what happens when you head to the boonies for 5 days and refuse to access a laptop or Wi-Fi internet while you’re gone. Going home is like a mini vacation for me. So I’m allowed to leave the my online life behind for a few days.
Walking out in the woods on a beautiful fall day will never compare to any day spent entirely on a computer.
I had quite an assortment of dreams last night. One very, very steamy one, and another where I drew on experiences from what is happening in my real, conscious life, and I was President of the United States of America. And they say life doesn’t influence the art we create in our heads. Pffft. I’m actually not sure if that’s true. I may have made that up.
What IS true, however, is a fun fact I read the other day while eating breakfast. Apparently, upon first waking up, if we are going to recall a dream, we remember it in its entirety within the first 10 seconds of waking. Another seven seconds, and we can only recall about 1/4 of it. Within ten minutes of waking, we forget the dream entirely.
Fascinating, isn’t it? I’m a little bit different, as I recall bits and pieces of dreams for hours/days/weeks to come after it has been played over in my head. Sometimes, I dream the same dream a couple more times, each time adding on a little bit more than the last time. The mind is an interesting, complicated piece of organized mush. I’m thankful there are people in the world who can cut open a person’s skull, get their fingers in there, probe around and fix the issues that are happening. Someone would crack their skull open near me and I would probably barf from the sound of shattering skull alone.
I’ll spare you the details of the hot and steamy one. But the POTUS one? I’ll share that one:
“I’m pacing in a back conference room. There’s a long, mahogany table shining in the center of the room, and a rather large flat screen TV is fixed to the wall behind where I am pacing. (All I can think at this point is of Effie Trinket from the Hunger Games yelling her infamous mahogany line.)My hands rest on my hips in my slim-cut navy blue suit, and i just keep pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Quickly, the door opens, and a younger man steps in. Camera flashes and the shouting of invasive questions burst from the doorway and are quickly shut away once the door is clicked closed behind him. He walks over to me, I stop pacing, and we simply stare at each other. He has the same curly flop of hair that Josh Groban does, but he is tall, dark and handsome. (He has been in my dreams many, many times before, and I can feel my mouth starting to water just thinking about him now.)I continue to stare at him, waiting. After a short time, he lets out a deep and sigh, looks down to the floor, and only shakes his head once: No.
Instantly, my eyes fill with tears, and I can’t breathe. (I wasn’t expecting this. POTUS does not cry ever!) He tries to reach a hand out to me, but I quickly step away. ‘Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.’ He looks at me with concern, but quietly mutters, ‘I’m the reason our country still has a living leader instead of a scorched body to mourn.’ I turn back to him then, walk over to him, and slap him hard across the cheek. (How DARE he?! But I still don’t know what’s going on…)‘That was my family in that plane. I should have been with them,’ I yell at him.
The door opens again, another burst of blinding camera flashes, and its my Vice President. He’s come to tell me I need to meet with my Press Secretary to draft a statement as to my whereabouts and why I wasn’t on the plane with them when it crashed. Handsome looks at me, and we exchange a painful look. We knew this affair wouldn’t result in anything good for either of us. (Don’t you know you never sleep with someone you work with?!) Never did I imagine it would end with my family dying in a plane crash while I got it on with Handsome here in the fake Oval Office (you know, the one the tours are led through. Not the ACTUAL Oval Office. Too many things of value there.) Nor did I imagine that a private tour was being conducted at the same time my legs would wrap around his waist. (Twitter-verse must have been in heaven.)
I nod, and prepare to follow the Press Secretary through the melee of reporters waiting outside the door.
‘You do know the truth will come out no matter what we say in the next few hours,’ he says to me. I nod, and say, ‘Next time I won’t be so stupid and we won’t be in this mess.’ I give Handsome one more long look and tell him to pack his things. He is no longer a member of my Cabinet. (GASP!)With that final word, I’m out the door, blinded by hundreds of cameras going off all at once.”
This is not a demonstration of how women wouldn’t be competent in leading our country. THIS is a demonstration of A woman who wouldn’t be able to lead our country:
“Refudiate. English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words, too. Got to celebrate it.”
Remember those words from our last election in 2008? They are from Sarah Palin, a politician who decided to comment about her bard-like brilliance on Twitter. Brilliance…is that what they’re calling it these days? Of all the women John McCain could have picked to be his running mate, he had to choose Miss Russia From Her Backyard.
Whatever. I’m over and so so SO happy McCain didn’t win. Otherwise who knows what Palin might have done, and in case you need clarification, I’d be holding my breath in worry, not in rapt anticipation.
Yoda/Kenobi 2016…Because they are our only hope.
Struggling with self-image is not a fight about I’m about win. Nor is it one I’m about to lose.
I’m simply sitting on my couch, writing here to you after a lovely and high-spirited Zumba class, and all I can think about is how my hips still look chubby in the mirrors while I’m dancing my ass off.
The first thing you learn when posing for pictures is that you never stand straight-on toward the camera. It makes everything go wider than it actually is. Mirrors don’t add on 10 extra pounds when you look at your reflection, do they? Anyways, I look wide and chubby, but the instant I turn to either one of my sides? I’m as slim and skinny as every woman in that room dreams to be (maybe except my sister, who is smaller than me in every possible respect.)
If I could only look at myself sideways for the rest of my life. I consciously made a decision yesterday while eating my lunch. I’m never going to let myself get fat. I’m going to lose the extra 5-10 pounds I’ve put my mind to losing in the next couple of months, but I am never, ever going to let myself get overweight.
I’m also going to be a kick-ass party thrower. I have lots of books, lots of tips, and tons of ideas. Watch out world. When I make my millions and have many, many friends, I’m going to be the party-throwing queen.
“If we had not been pretty, I think we would have been drowned like little dogs. That’s my mother!”
The fantastic, but alarming, words of Zsa Zsa Gabor, the sassy socialite. Oh yes, who else would have the guts to say such a thing.
It’s a struggle every woman is going to have with herself from the moment she hears the word ‘pretty’ and starts asking herself if this word applies to her. The minute she picks up that first tube of lipstick, she’s getting sucked into the horrible wind tunnel of make-up land. Don’t get me wrong, make-up is so much fun and really is addicting.
It’s when you become a slave to the product is when you have to worry.
If any woman in the world tripped upon a magic lamp containing a genie who would grant one wish upon her, I really, really hope she would not be selfish (because I know I would.) With her selflessness, she would grant the female world freedom of self-judgement. No longer would she look in the mirror and compare herself to every other single woman out there. No teenagers would have eating disorders in the attempt to be “perfect.” We would all discover our strengths and talents, and find our beauty from them.
But I tend to live in a fantasy world 95% of the time.
I am one girl who loves to eat, and eat well. I have stacks of recipe books I intend to cook my way through. Indeed, each and every one, be it a 100 gourmet dinner or 2000 decadent desserts. Oh yes, I do love my food.
It’s long overdue, but here is my New Day Sunday for the month of September. There were great discoveries last month at the grocery store, and if you haven’t tried them already, next time you’re in the grocery store, add an item or two to your shopping list. Life is worth living. Don’t let a few bucks set you back from delighting your taste buds.
Seriously, don’t hold back. Ever.
Before Anakin turned to the dark side, he was labeled a lot of things. Reckless, brave, a witty combatant, fearless behind the controls of a fighter spacecraft. Regardless of what they said about him, he grabbed life by the horns and let the ride happen.
It might also be the reason why he let his emotions get the best of him, which turned into his downfall…but that’s not what we’re focusing on here.
Get out there and try something new. Even if all it happens to be is a new flavor of ice cream.
I’m probably going to regret these words in the morning, but here goes nothing: I feel disgusting.
Yep, I sure do. Why, you might be asking yourself? Why would someone who eats less than 1500 calories a day (naturally) feel disgusting in her own flesh and skin? I’m putting myself through hell right now, that’s why.
I’ve signed myself up for 8-weeks of fitness classes and tomorrow is the first Wednesday class. Not so bad…until you realize it’s at 7 am in the morning. Yup, you heard me right. That early in the morning, and then I have a full 8-hour day ahead of me. What am I going to do when it’s not yoga? I sweat on a very manly level, and what happens when we get to kickboxing or step?
I’m going to be soaked, and I’ll only have 20 minutes to look presentable for my office afterwards. I just need my hair to cooperate one morning a week. That’s not so much to ask, is it? We shall see how the next two months play out.
On top of everything else right now, I opened the oven to remove my single-serve pizza and the heat blast not only fogged up my glasses with steam, but it also melted my mascara to my eyelashes and I could feel them stick to my upper eyelids. Ugh I’m just a mess right now!
“To be a star is to own the world and all the people in it. After a taste of stardom, everything else is poverty.”
Those are the words of Hedy Lamarr, who is quite the scene stealer herself. Why do these words ring true to my soul? I’m not making a fuss over myself right now because I feel like I’m lacking my ‘star quality.’
Oh, what am I saying? I’ve been telling myself for a while that I’ve lost my personal sense of stardom. I used to be the star in my own life. Friends, many invitations to hang-out and party, money to spend on books/clothes/music, and I would look in the mirror and actually like what I see. Now? I usually tell myself one of two things: 1.) You’re looking a little dark around the eyes (from lack of sleep, no doubt), or 2.) Damn that hair/make-up smudge/rebel eyebrow hair.
Do you see a problem with this? I’m not looking in the mirror and saying how beautiful I think I am. Inside AND out. I’m not doing that. I’m not looking at myself and seeing something beautiful. I’m looking at myself and seeing a sad sack of lumpiness.
I’m not kidding. Does this make me sound terrible self-deprecating or what?
Don’t get me wrong. I have my good days where I look and say, “Hey. I’m looking pretty dang good right now, and that lip gloss is totally banging.” (Okay, maybe not that last part.) You get what I mean.
I’m also sitting here watching Glee (and the terrible drama that is Rachel Berry losing her virginity to Jesse James of vocal adrenaline), eating a cheese pizza along with sour cream and onion chips. I went shopping instead of going to the gym like I had originally planned.
Fat is what I’m feeling right now. I am so not getting my insurance money back from hitting my gym visitation quota this month. Not unless I kick myself in the butt. And, I mean kick my butt seriously. Yoga at 7 am is one thing. Going to the gym 8-12 times a month is a completely new beast.
I also meant to cook dinner tonight (Cue evil looks from my sister for not following through on that exclamation of the night. I’m sorry, but you were upstairs doing whatever with your fiance, and I had a headache and just didn’t feel like cooking tonight! I’ll do it tomorrow, damn it!)
For right now, I’m just going to settle down with my pizza and watch the rest of this virginity drama. Then, I need to hit my sheets (not for that reason!). I have to be up early to get my yoga on.
Yoga is the mind-settler of the Jedi. It lets you connect all that is around you, and all that is within you. It might sound like mumbo-jumbo, but it actually works.
If you don’t believe me? Try it yourself. If you let yourself go and lose yourself in the movement, you might feel the connectedness, too. But, seriously. Just try it.
You know that feeling of watching a movie you were once so obsessed with that you were watching it every night of your life because it was SUCH as good movie, and then you don’t watch it for months because you’ve worn yourself out with it, but then watch it again after all that time…and you remember how freaking great a movie it is?
Three words: Black Hawk Down.
That is one movie that continues to blow me away every single time I watch it. There’s so much I love about that movie…the actors, the story, the themes of brotherhood and leaving no man behind, the real-life heroism displayed, the historical content, the artistic direction, the fast-paced action, the display of what it means to be Delta Force. I could go on and on about this movie, but it’s surely one of my all-time Top 5 movies.
I’ve only had this reaction to one other movie, and that was The Mask of Zorro. Such a fun, fast-paced movie with its moments of serious talk and chuckle worthy cockiness. I certainly can’t leave out the swoon-worthy appeal of Antonio Banderas wearing the black mask of a bandit, or the way he handles his swordplay. The action towards the climax of the film always gets my blood racing. It was this film that pushed me towards my first gender-bending role of my childhood. It was on Halloween and I dressed the part of Zorro. Black boots, sword on my hip, and my mom painted black grease make-up on my chin and upper lip to complete the look. I had longer curlier hair, so once I had the mustache on my face, I could pass for a very young little Banderas wannabe.
Trust me, I was a cutie. Although when I smiled really big, it threw the whole look off. Zorro is a stern guy…no smiling allowed (unless it’s a sexy smirk.)
Anyways, my slight military obsession was reignited after my viewing of Black Hawk Down. There are certain moments in that movie that will always, always, always bring tears to my eyes and make me hold my breath, and I’m pretty sure I’ve watched the film like 88 times. Maybe even 188. There was a Christmas (and yes, this is going to sound slightly depressing) where I watched that movie twice a day. Around Christmas time! I fell in love with the movie, and I never turned my back on it.
Watching this movie only spawned a million and one thoughts to go off in my brain. It conjured up memories of a novel I wrote while I was in high school. The more I thought about it, the more and more I fell back in love with the initial idea I had while writing it. If I went back and reread the words I penned more than 5 years ago, I probably would cringe. I used to be a very romanticized writer, and sometimes I catch myself slipping back in the vagueness of it. I like detail, being real with the descriptions. Those end up being the fun ones!
“Women have been taught that, for us, the earth is flat, and if we venture out, we will fall off the edge.”
Oh, not with the way my mind works. Those sorts of words, Andrea Dworkin, a women’s studies staple, are what drive my main female characters. My female protagonists are fighters, and they are tough. They are me amplified by 20, and put into situations I could only dream of experiencing.
Anyways, the basic idea is this: The first women has passed all rigorous and most difficult physical, mental and strategic tests the military can throw at her. She has surpassed everything the fatigues can throw at her, and she always comes out on top of any male competitor. She takes no bullshit, tells you like it is, is fearless, tough, and wants nothing more than to fight for the good of the world and for her country. We’re not necessarily talking America here. This is where I get vague. It could be sometime in the future, it could be in the past…hell, we could be on a different planet for all I know.
And the whole Ranger/Delta thing? Simply inspiration for the level of military involvement this force operates.
So, this woman gets to the hot zone and the story becomes about how she survives it. The conflict comes into play when the enemy they are fighting strongly believes a woman warrior is committing a crime against God himself. It’s against everything they believe in, and any country/planet that allows her to fight in their name, is damned to death. They become quite the enemy, let me tell you.
There’s action, there’s hot sexual tension (come on, these boys haven’t been around a female in ages! It’s bound to happen), there’s battle of the wits and of morals, there’s a small love story (but not what you’re thinking!), but most of all, it comes down to camaraderie.
When I wrote the initial start to this idea back in the good ol’ high school days, it was a great idea and there’s a few parts that only need a bit more fleshing out and it’s solid. The rest of it? Sadly, it needs to be entirely reworked. That’s the way it goes when you’re a writer. 80% of the first try is tossed out completely.
Why am I hanging on to an idea that I put to paper half a decade ago? Women are still fighting for equality in every respect of the word in this day and age, and that is a theme I will always gravitate to. It’s who I am. You can’t change what gets your mind buzzing anymore than a hummingbird can stop flapping its wings.
I’ve been reading into home improvement projects, digging around for crafty home-maker to-dos, and sifting through cookbooks for recipes that make my mouth water just reading them. With the Black Hawk Down mindset still alive and well in my brain, it makes me wonder why a single woman should dream of living in her own apartment, and that’s where the dream ends. Why can’t a single woman own her own home (and let’s pretend money isn’t a problem here for anyone. Couples, rich folks, home inheriters…you get the idea)?
If I am not married or going steady with a significant other at a certain point in my life, I’m not going to want to live in a small, crummy apartment for the rest of my life. It’s the American dream, isn’t it? To be a home owner, and I plan to be one in my future years ahead of me.
So..when that day comes, I’m going to be quite the home improvement maniac, and here are the seven reasons I (and any other woman who can’t put down her wrench) deserve to win the HGTV Dream Home:
2.) The only thing your garage-door opener works on: the TV.
3.) You have two sets of pots: one for cooking, the other for catching drips on a rainy day.
4.) To prevent blowing a fuse, you have to turn off all the lights before you blow-dry your hair.
5.) Your stairs creak even when nobody is walking on them.
6.) You try to pass off the water stains on the ceiling as “modern art.”
7.) Your plumber has his own key.
Now, darlings, this isn’t to say we’re going to be bad at our own home repairs when we’re living in OUR house. It just never hurts to have a back-up plan…or five.
And like the Jedi Order, know that no matter what barrier is put before you, nothing is impossible. Things only become impossible when we deem them to be so. Solution? Don’t think it’s impossible. Because it’s not.
There’s an answer to everything, and the Force will guide you to it.
This morning has been just full of surprises…and it’s not even an hour into the work day yet.
Good gravy, how is this all possible! I have hit a shockingly new high number of views in the past 24 hours, so thank you readers for checking in and sharing with others my sometimes insane, but mostly from the heart feelings generally concerning this thing called Life. I try to delve into what it means to be a Jedi in the modern age, but sometimes I fail. And sometimes I feel you decipher for yourself what it means to be a Jedi on your own terms through reflection on the day.
Seeing the numbers of my views yesterday only caused the second eye-bulging moment of the day (so far!) I think everybody and their mother decided to head in the same exact direction I was headed this morning. I didn’t leave my house any later than usual, I didn’t speed or go grandma-pace on the highway. I stuck to my schedule quite rigidly.
So why is the universe messing with me? Good question.
I get stuck behind this enormous road construction vehicle (its function, I have no freaking clue), but it takes him forever to merge onto the freeway so I can get on my own way to the office. Then, when usually my off-ramp is free and clear and I’m in good spirits, there’s a twelve-car pile up to get on my street and it’s just a whole cluster of madness. Then, I realized I forgot my water bottle at my part-time job last night and I was just silly with remorse. How else was I going to be able to whip up a dose of Iced Coffee when my afternoon slump hit? (Good thing I’m great at improvising!)
I sign onto my social media sites to check in for work purposes, and a guy I went out with a few nights ago instantly starts talking to me. Not about anything in particular, just friendly banter…and this went on ALL day long. ALL DAY LONG! There are few people I can banter with 24 hours a day, and neither of us got bored with the other. We’ve since stopped talking now. I’ll soon be on my way out the door, and he has a list of things to do with his evening. What can we say? We’re busy, on-the-go, important people.
Once I settled into my regular routine, the day went swimmingly. Jumped into a meeting about an 8-week fitness course I’ve signed up for. Starting next week, I’ll be working out at two different sessions a day. Come November 3 for this infamous wedding, I’m going to look so wonderful. My dress is going to look simply stunning on me! (Or it won’t fit from all the working out I’ll be doing in the coming weeks. Wouldn’t that just suck? Pay all that money for alterations and then they would be for nothing anyways. Fingers crossed I maintain a svelte figure, everyone!)
“I’ll have the best boobs in the nursing home. I’ll be the envy of all the ladies around the bridge table.”
I love these words and the self-confidence they portray from Christina Applegate, an actress commenting on her mastectomy and reconstruction surgeries.
A woman should feel great about herself, especially if she’s struggling through some sort of awful disease, like cancer. She should feel great and beautiful all the time. If you’re going through the hell of losing all your hair and possibly the parts of you that make you (biologically) a woman, than hell, you do whatever you want…as long as it makes you feel like “you” again.
That;s why I’m choosing outlets that get me physically active. I miss the athlete side of me. I miss everything about being a hard-hitting tomboy who could run, hit, throw, and be tough just as much as the boys. I was as good as the boys, if not better. If I hadn’t of discovered tennis when I did, I would have been “the girl who played football.” (At least through middle school…I was bigger than all of them pip squeaks anyways.) I would have wanted to continue onwards into the varsity level. Serious props to the girls who do play on the varsity level kick the male counterparts asses. I’m with you every step of the way.
Anyways, I choose to let loose in a positive, physical way. Not only does it keep me healthy and motivated, but there’s nothing like the surge of pride you feel when you cross your arms and actually realize how strong your arms have become. Or pull on a pair of pants, let your hands rest on your hips and feel how slim you are down your front. Or slipping on that pair of heels with a skirt and seeing your calf muscles flex as you turn to check yourself out.
Plus, in the end, a Jedi needs to be tough and sexy in her own skin. Working up a sweat makes me feel sexy. It might be slightly gross, but you know how many guys say they are more attracted to their significant other right when they get home from the gym and see their foreheads glistening in the late afternoon sunlight? Let me tell you. A LOT. There’s some truth to that I-Just-Worked-Out cheek flush. I’ve experienced it. You should, too.
At the end of the day, you have to be happy with yourself. Being happy, feeling sexy in my own skin, and family and friends make me pretty darn happy. Want to know what else makes this Jedi happy? Read on to find out:
– Breakfast in Bed
– Homemade Cards
– Being Pampered
– No Cooking Night
– Feeling Special
– No Cleaning
– Unexpected Phone Calls
– Bubbles Baths
– Children Laughing
– Family Time
What makes you feel happy and sexy in this world? Every Jedi needs to know where her heart lies, because when you’re feeling down and alone (especially when you’re out fighting the Dark Side of the Force ,which is a continuous battle in itself), you and only you, can bring yourself back up to that Kick-Ass state of mind we all need to have at the ready.
Figure out what makes you feel invincible, and once you do, let yourself indulge in it every once in a while.
We Jedi need to stay disciplined. But when we let ourselves enjoy, even for the briefest moment, it makes all the hard work and sweat worth it.But if you feel sexiest when you’re sweating up a storm (like I do), you’re in a great mood almost all the time!
Sexy is what you make it. I make it work for me.
Every time I turn around, there’s a new announcement declaring the nuptials of the new happy couple. And what am I thinking the instant after seeing said declaration? “What the hell is my problem?”The date on which my last very serious relationship ended is nearing. How sappy can I get? I’m already mourning the date of which my last serious relationship called it quits. Gaaaaah….
Anyways, yet another one of my friends have become engaged, and here I am, sitting on my couch, blaringly aware of the fact I am single and no way in heaven close to entering a relationship with any guy in or outside my life, and all I can think about are the cramps returning to my abdomen and the Skinny Cow caramel truffle cars stashed in our freezer. Oh, and how I meant to clean and straighten my level of the house sometime today. You know, make it more livable, and instead, I watched the entirety of the film ‘Babel’ for the first time since, what, 2009 since it hit the Oscar nomination boards and critics raved about it?
Again, I’m watching this film, wondering where the Brad Pitt in my life is going to enter the picture?
I’ve been a total bum this weekend, and I’m actually pretty okay with it. I felt like total ishy ickniess most of the day yesterday, and managed to clean myself up and out the door to hang out at Oktoberfest with a group of friends. I managed to get about 2 beers down my throat, feeling the old-school buzz of college-dom, and then my stomach started to rebel. I had to call it quits, and the glass mug I was chugging Starfire from? Weighed like 10 pounds.
Even though I didn’t go to the gym, Oktoberfest managed to work it into my schedule anyways.
Felt better for the past 24 hours, except whenever food enters the picture, it tastes great going down, but comes back for revenge about an hour later. So, so so fabulous. Need I go into more detail? Because I can.
But I won’t.
Anyways, I’m getting back into Grey’s Anatomy and think one of those Skinny Cows needs to attempt going into my stomach, so this is where I bid you good-bye. Not before sharing my New Day Sunday for the month of August. Late, but better than never.
Produce: Green beans
Bakery:Crusty Italian Bread
Canned Goods:Black Beans
Breakfast/Cereal:Bacon-flavored ice cream
Frozen Foods:Single-Serve Pea Packets
Toiletries:Tea Tree Facial Mask
Baby:White Baptism Gown
Household:Pier One Fiesta Containers
Pets:Glow-in-the-Dark fish tank gravel
Snacks:Deep-Fried Candy Bar (Milky Way flavored)
Misc: Neutrogena Moisture Shine Lip Soother in Sheen #50
We’re calling it a night on this end, folks.
“I may not be making a living, but I’m making a difference.”
The words of Rachel Hickerson, who works on behalf of women. She’s a Jedi in her own right. We keep pushing, knowing there’s a chance for a better world out there.
Jedi Don’t Quit.
As promised, here is a double-whammy of Fabulous Fridays from the last two weeks that I have failed to update and post.
I hope you enjoy, and take heart from Heidi Klum, the model for millions, and her wise words she offers:
“I jumped into the water with forty-five sharks without a cage in the Bahamas for a Discovery Channel show. That was a really good experience. I’m not saying that everyone should swim with sharks, but sometimes you have to jump over your own shadow in order to learn something that you will never forget for the rest of your life.”
Without further adieu, here is my deluxe Fabulous Friday!
Fabulous Decor Idea:
Fabulous French Detail:
Fabulous (Flat Belly) Snack:
Fabulous Halloween Idea:
Fabulous New Hobby:
Fabulous Baby Outfit:
Fabulous Table Decor:
Fabulous Highway Freak-Out:
Fabulous New Pair of Shoes:
Fabulous Coffee Accessory:
Fabulous Bridal Bling:
Fabulous Lion King Lesson:
Fabulous Bridal Party Memento:
Happy Midweek! Almost to Friday once again!